Naked Singularity
by comtria
Summary: Sometimes stories don't get to run their full course. Just a moment in Sparky time.


_21.00 hours_

She had not expected to end this night walking down the empty corridors, trying not to topple under their crushing silence, as she made her way to the nearest transporter.

She thought about how it would be tomorrow, the inevitable avoidance and side-stepping, the awkwardness lingering for a few days, possibly weeks.

She saw herself crawling into her large, cold bed. She saw him still standing in his darkened quarters, staring half-expectantly at his unmoving door.

"What the hell were you thinking," she scolded herself, but she couldn't stop the lump in her throat from spilling into her eyes.

Relinquishing control, she had always thought, was a sign of weakness. Letting the other person make a move before her, letting another even so much as guess what was behind her unwavering exterior, could be a fatal mistake.

But sometimes, making mistakes was the best thing she ever did.

She swatted angrily at the tears now coating her cheeks.

It was having to clean up those mistakes that had taught her why she seldom allowed for them in the first place.

_20.00_

"Isn't this awfully presumptive of you?" she laughed as John lowered her onto his bed, waving the light off.

"Come on, Elizabeth," he said playfully, kissing her shoulder. "I didn't expect you, of all people, to fall for that trick."

"Well, maybe I was expecting something more than a neck massage," she admitted.

He kissed her up the side of her face, brushing her hair away from her eyes. "Forgive me for being so forward, but has it been as long for you as it has for me since the last time you…"

"Far too long?" Elizabeth offered.

"Precisely," John agreed, and she laughed as she found his mouth again.

It had been too long even since her last make-out session. She felt as if she were in high school again, and had to keep pausing to feel him out, trying to follow his next move. He was strong but fluid, slightly guiding her against his headboard, running his hands under her shirt as he glided his tongue into her mouth.

She turned her head to the side and took a deep breath, realizing she was suddenly able to breathe much more deeply, as if the air were lighter. She propped herself into a sitting position and stared into John's glinting eyes. She traced his close-lipped smile. "I just can't believe it's you," she said.

"I've been waiting a long time," he admitted.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his nose to hers. He kissed her, deeply, drawn-out, and she shivered under his touch.

John raised his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, then leaned into her and kissed her lightly. She brought her hand to his chest. She could hear his breathing, controlled but ragged. He was so warm, she just wanted to lay her head on him and listen to his breathing for hours. It had never come this naturally to her before, to allow someone to take control of her, pull her legs around his hips as he rolled up her shirt. And as he kissed her more, with every breath they followed each other's movements effortlessly, as if in a never-ending melody.

She remembered laying in bed on a Sunday morning, letting Simon stroke her back as he half-heartedly flipped through the paper, sorting out her thoughts from the last week and plans for the next. Time had stopped. The most pressing issue was whether or not she could muster enough care to get the coffee from the kitchen before it burned. Those days were over now. Every night thoughts rushed through her head at tachyon speed. Wondering if the Wraith would come. Wondering when the Wraith would come. When a new enemy would emerge. When the next person would die. She fed on pockets of small miracles, knowing the battle would never end.

But now, here, with John, all she could think about was how his skin felt as it pressed against hers. The fear and the worry seemed farther and farther away each time he sucked her breath away from her.

Then he began to un-hook her bra, and she went cold. She sat up as if automatically and sighed dizzily.

"Something wrong?" John asked, concerned.

Elizabeth shook her head. Why did this suddenly feel alien, disorienting? The heat in the room evaporated and she climbed out of John's bed, turning her back to him as she re-adjusted her clothing.

"John," she breathed, slowly turning back to face him, sitting on the bed, bewildered. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am for this." She was surprised at her own tone of voice. It was the voice she reserved for a stranger.

"What?" John spat out, moving to rise, but thought better of it.

"This is a complete breach of professionalism," she continued.

"Oh, for crying out loud," said John. "Can't we forget about that?"

"No." She felt a rock sink to her stomach.

"Then what the hell is all this?" John's tone was softer, his attempt to tame his anger, or maybe his hurt.

"I don't know, John, but," she swallowed, "it's over." She marched toward the door.

"Elizabeth," he said wearily, following her to the middle of the room, "if you think the only thing I'm after is sex-"

"Regardless of what you're after-" she began.

He drew her into a slow kiss. She couldn't bring herself to fight against it. She needed to save her strength. When they broke apart for the last time he held her at arm's length, stroking the back of his hand up and down her shoulder.

"John," she said softly. She looked at his form, slightly illuminated in the dark, and could not see his face.

She walked toward the door again, not turning back.

"Elizabeth," John said again, more strongly this time, but without moving.

But she had already turned the corner.

_19.00 _

"Ow. I think I strained my neck," Elizabeth groaned as she eased into a seat in the mess hall.

"What happened?" John asked, his mouth full of food.

"I think I've been working at the computer too much." She opened her bottle of water and took a sip. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"Oh, they already ate. I just had to file some last-minute paperwork," John explained.

"Likewise," said Elizabeth, even though he hadn't asked, and offered her water in a mock "cheers" to his. "Here's to responsibility."

"Why don't you come to my quarters after dinner?" John smiled and stuck a fork into the middle of his Salisbury steak, a wry smile creeping over his face.

"What?" she chuckled, almost spitting out her water.

"I think I have something that might help you," John offered, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Battery-powered massager. You'd be surprised how powerful that little sucker is."

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. "Really."

John raised one hand. "Really." He rose from the table and nodded toward the exit. "Come on."

When she was younger she read stories before bed. Sometimes at the end of fairy tales a character would experience wisdom and enlightenment. But she preferred innocence and what-ifs. She preferred a horizon of possibilities rather than an ultimate.

Maybe it was not traditional, but she could make the fairy tales all have happy endings –

- if she read them backwards.

*

She had not expected to end this night walking down the empty corridors, trying not to topple under their crushing silence.

*

"I think I have something that might help you," John offered.

She followed him to his quarters.

John gently removed the massager from her hands and set it on his desk. "It's good, but it's only a temporary solution," he explained, placing a hand around her waist. "But in my expert opinion, the real cause of your pain is," and then he slid his other arm around her and pulled her into a kiss.

The tingles in her neck cascaded into her stomach and swirled dizzily into her head as she felt his soft lips on her. She drank him in and returned his motion, feeling out his mouth, feeling his hands on her in just the right places, lightly guiding her into the nook of his embrace. As they paused she placed a hand on his chest, scrutinizing his face, trying to read him.

She relaxed her eyes from their normal stoicism, narrowed in preparation, into the same curious, slightly mischievous expression he reflected back at her.

"Too much…tension," said John.

This time she initiated the kiss.


End file.
